


two falling sparks

by crackers4jenn



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackers4jenn/pseuds/crackers4jenn
Summary: "I'm gonna propose something Iknowis gonna make it sound like I've lost my mind," Rhett calls over, looking Link's way, "but I haven't. Trust me."





	two falling sparks

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Vance Joy's "From Afar"
> 
> +
> 
>  
> 
> _You lined me up_  
>  Across the room  
> Two falling sparks  
> One willing fool  
> And I, I always knew  
> That I would love you from afar

Having known Rhett for more than three decades now, Link's fine-tuned to him like he's the guy's freakin' personal mood ring.

Rhett, now, is sitting in the hotel bed next to his, scrolling through his phone, giving off such intense vibes of morbid interest, Link's practically drenched in it. He doesn't say anything to Rhett, lest that invites a less-than-desirable conversation on whatever Rhett's over there obsessing about, but he knows Rhett can read him just as well, so his purposely crafted disinterest isn't as casual as he'd hope for it to be.

Still.

Whatever Rhett's looking at, it's got the entirety of his attention, and Link wonders if he's making the wrong choice for himself here, long-term. If letting Rhett get so wrapped up means inevitably Link's going to get dragged down with him the way so many of Rhett's previous 'layers' have become flavor-of-the-moments of his own.

Could be something cool, though. Link's been toeing the idea that he might like to get into snowboarding again. Rhett might be researching that.

"I'm gonna propose something I _know_ is gonna make it sound like I've lost my mind," Rhett calls over, looking Link's way, "but I haven't. Trust me."

Probably not snowboarding, then.

Link gives him a look that means he's listening, but only as a placation. He goes right back to what he was doing before Rhett's vibes overpowered him, and that's a nap. An attempt at one, anyway. He closes his eyes, waiting out Rhett, fully intending to let his words lull him into sleep (and then, later, claim jet lag when Rhett gets ticked off he conked out on him.)

"What if--" Here comes a pause Link ain't going to do Rhett the honor of acknowledging, since it's so showy and purposely for dramatic build-up, "--they're right?" Rhett asks it in a tone that does nothing to convince Link that Rhett's not about to spring an as-seen-on-TV infomercial product on him. Might as well have come with a _dun-dun-dunnn_ soundbite attached. It's excited and secretive and just this side of ashamed, like he already knows he oughta be.

Link blinks open an eye, just to give Rhett a brief yet powerful ' _am I going to be annoyed you're bringing me into this_?' warning stare.

Rhett takes it as consent to keep going. The recoil of mattress springs and the sound of Rhett getting up and scooting around to sit at the edge of the bed has Link peeking over with both eyes opened this time.

FYI, Rhett looks nuts. Like, his eyes are bulging real crazy, that sort of nuts. He must really be trying to sell this new thing. Link considers the amount of spending money in his bank account and whether or not he can use that to deflect here.

When he doesn't play his part in the conversation Rhett must've been expecting them to have, Rhett leans across the divide between beds to slap at Link's exposed arm.

"Ask me who."

"OW. Why you gotta get so violent?"

"Like that hurt."

"It's the principle. Just keep your hands to yourself."

"You gonna ask?"

"Is it infomercials?"

"What? _No_." Somehow he makes it sound like _Link's_ the idiot here.

"Who, Rhett?" Link parrots sarcastically.

Even more excitedly, Rhett scoots onto Link's bed, sitting so close Link gets jostled in the process. He scowls to let Rhett know he ain't happy with the bursting of his personal bubble, or the ruining of his nap, but Rhett misses it entirely, too busy shoving his phone in Link's face.

"The Beasts, man," he's saying, tapping at his phone's screen so images whiz by. One after the other, Link watches them go. At first, with a slight disorientation, and then, after a few of them, a clarity that takes its shape in the form of a sudden upturned stomach.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, knocking Rhett's hand out of the way. "What the crap, man," he starts, but Rhett's shaking his head at his phone, frowning at the multitude of Google images he'd pulled up under the search 'rhett & link kiss.'

"Look! There's so many," Rhett marvels to himself.

Link stares.

Eventually he gets control of his vocal cords to say, "Sorry, but. Didn't we ban bringing this sorta thing up after we did that 'ship ourselves' video? 'Cause I'm still dealin' with the trauma of some of them youtube comments."

Rhett's got his gaze off his phone, thankfully, and locked on Link, but he doesn't look as swayed by this reminder of horrifying times.

"That's different," Rhett brushes Link's wisdom off.

"Um. What?"

"We did that to ourselves, man. We wrote that knowing we'd get those sorta comments and we did it anyway. Which, again. What if they're right? Only one way to find out."

Link sits up all the way, trust-falling into the pillow behind him until his back hits the headboard.

This might just be a weird joke Rhett's playing. That's something worth mulling over. If he is, and Link overreacts too much here, Rhett might tease him about it later. 'You thought I wanted us to kiss. Says some things about you, buddyroll.' Insert stupid smug Rhett-face.

Could be, too, that Rhett's finally had a mental snap.

"So," Link lays it out there slowly. "You think the Mythical beasts, who have... photoshopped these... images, of us. Kissing. They're--right? About us?"

"Look how many there are," Rhett reasons, holding up the phone again like it's an inarguable proof.

"Yeah, no. I see that, I see that. Are you on crack?"

"Yes," Rhett snorts. Link narrows his eyes at him, unimpressed with the joke, even though it was his own, and Rhett gives him a smile that can't seem to figure out if it wants to be fond or mocking. "No, man! I appreciate the outdated drug reference, though. You want to ask if I got into my dad's liquor cabinet when no one was home?"

"No, 'cause I already know you did that, you delinquent. You want us to kiss?"

Rhett just bugs his eyes out at him excitedly. That's his answer. Bug-eyes.

Link is pretty fluent in Rhett's eye-size, though. That's what thirty-plus years of friendship gets you. Eye-size translating skills.

He huffs out through his nose. "Seriously?"

"One time."

Link rolls his eyes.

Rhett starts to move in, with intent.

" _What_ \--" Link nearly smacks his head against the wall trying to get away.

Rhett's doing a pretty crappy job at pretending he's not fighting back a laugh, like it's so _hilarious_ Link's overreacting.

"Just let me kiss you, man."

"Do you freakin' hear yourself? I think you got altitude sickness. _Some_ kinda sickness," he says to himself.

"Sick with the pursuit of science, maybe. C'mon. Pucker up, Neal."

"Which end?" he snarks, then flushes bright red when Rhett's eyes widen in appreciation of Link's lewdness. "Shut up. I didn't mean--I'm not kissing you!"

"Why? Scared they're right?"

"About WHAT? I got some ' _secret desire_ ' to be kissed by you, and the moment it happens, all my wildest dreams'll come true?"

The look Rhett's giving him this time is pure, unfiltered amusement. "Okay, Freud. I meant it mutually, but you wanna take ownership of this thing between us, you go on ahead."

"What THING are you even talking about? Friendship? A ten-year business plan?"

"Hey." Rhett looks offended by that, and it's the first genuine emotion he's given Link since this ordeal started. He thwacks Link across the chest. "We amended that, man. Fifteen."

Secretly Link thinks the Youtube-thing might not sustain them that long, but that's a whole other topic for a different time.

Going a different route, he asks, "What're you expecting to happen here? There's gotta be an end result you're counting on."

"Maybe a little mouth-on-mouth excitement," he says, playing at charming (landing more on annoying, if you ask Link) before admitting, "Nothing. That's the point. I'm not askin' to kiss you 'cause I think it's gonna rock our world. I think we'll kiss and it'll be like--' _oh. okay._ '"

He shouldn't be offended by that, right? It'd be stupid to be offended.

Still, "Don't act like you already know you're gonna be unimpressed by my liplock-game."

Rhett's eyebrows rise up like inflated balloons. Taunting, teasing. "Put your mouth with your mouth is, brotha."

"Or what?"

Rhett shrugs, and with that, he eases out of Link's personal space a little, like his intention is to give Link the room he's been asking for. "Might mean I'm more of a man than you, but, hey. You do you, Link."

Seriously, reverse psychology?

"You're an idiot, you know that? I know what you're doing."

"Hey, I'm man enough I could kiss you on the mouth and not care. You're not. Nothing wrong with that."

"I know what this is. It ain't gonna work."

Rhett's turned almost sideways, so all Link can see is the smug silhouette of his bugged out 'no judgements here but secretly: judgments' eyes.

"I'm not 'doing' anything, I'm just saying. I'd've done it. You couldn't, but I could. That doesn't make me better than you--"

"OH MY CRAP," Link says, but only half of it out loud. The other part, the last part, happens in his brain, because his mouth becomes too preoccupied pressing itself up against Rhett's.

That's right. Who's the man now?

Their kiss, if you want to call the sneak attack pressing of his lips against Rhett's that, is over as suddenly as it started, leaving both men looking -- well, completely idiotic, in all honesty.

Rhett's wide-eyed in disbelief, and Link's got a smear of saliva on his chin since his zealousness to shut Rhett up equated in some mid-speech spittle.

That's cool. Real cool.

"So, now we kissed," Link announces pointlessly.

It takes a good six to eight seconds, but eventually Rhett agrees, "We did," and there's a roughness to it that catches Link's attention.

Then Rhett laughs, and some of the weirdness Link didn't even notice was building breaks.

"That was _so_ bad. Oh, man."

Logically, Link knows Rhett isn't saying _Link's_ the reason it was so bad. He also knows he didn't put any effort it into it and neither did Rhett, so there's nothing to be ruffled over. It's not like they were trying to make it a good kiss.

Rhett falls over Link, still cracking up. He catches himself by planting one of his arms on the outside of Link's leg, boxing Link in with a hand on either side of him. He doesn't even seem to notice that he's twisted himself in a way that has them pressed up hip-to-hip either, but suddenly, that's all Link can focus on. Probably because it's an abrupt heat spot, that point of contact.

By the time Rhett's laughter turns into a smile, Link's wasted a full minute contemplating their proximity.

"Was it you or me you think that made that so _bad_?" Rhett asks him, chuckling again at the memory.

"You, obviously."

Rhett's eyes blow open big at the indignation in Link's voice. He huffs out a laugh that Link doesn't care for, since it's at his expense and implying, again, that Link's having a reaction Rhett thinks is ridiculous.

Yeah, well.

"You kiss like a fish, so."

"Fish don't kiss, man."

Rhett's got this playful lilt in his voice -- even though his words are soft, the tone still digs at something in Link.

"Says something about you, then, don't it?"

Rhett drops the amusement to give back something that _finally_ says he's offended too. Took him long enough. Link has no time to feel victorious about it, though, since the second that feeling starts to swell, Rhett swoops in, mouth first.

Rhett kisses Link like someone dared him to stick a fork in an electric socket and he's bracing for the shock to follow; it's a mustering of courage that's fully anticipating pain. He's kissing Link through an eyes-squeezed-tightly-shut grimace, which basically means Link's getting a mouthful of prickly beard.

Link ducks out of the kiss with his own cringe, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Rhett's so close, the bushiness of his beard tickles Link's knuckles.

"Fail," Link states the obvious, practically choking it out. His eyes are watering, and though some of that has to do with his brain trying to get his attention long enough to say 'YO DUMMY, YOU AND RHETT ARE KISSING,' he's going to ignore that and blame it on the gross feeling of having Rhett's face-whiskers all up on his mouth business.

For a moment, Rhett looks ready to hoist the white flag and give up whatever mind-games he's been playing, but then it's like watching a literal switch flip in Rhett's eyes. He gets this look of determination usually reserved for swallowing down the last rounds in their Will It episodes, and that's all the signal Link gets before he's experiencing a third kiss with Rhett.

This one starts off the same as the others -- a little bit wet because they're not lining their mouths up the right way, so their lips are parting unpleasantly and pretty much just... touching, unmovingly, for as long as they can bare before the impulse to rear back hits -- but before that last part can happen, Rhett slides his right hand up the side of Link's face, and the level of intensity dials immediately from negative numbers into off-the-chart territory. It's so suddenly _not horrible_ that a shudder ripples through Link, leaving goosebumps in its wake and the startling realization that, holy crap, him and Rhett are for real kissing.

Rhett's fingers are so long, and cover so much of Link's jaw, that they dig into the hair at the nape of his neck, where they tug a little with each flex; Link's lips part soundlessly, and Rhett takes it upon himself to introduce tongue into the kiss.

Here, normally, is where sane-Link would pull back and say, 'that's nasty, man, I feel bad for your wife.' That Link's taking a back burner for reckless-and-mentally-checked-out-Link who uses the introduction of tongue to fully commit to the kiss himself.

Feeling selfish and like he oughta be catching up, Link slides his hands up the sides of Rhett's face, marveling at how familiar it feels while at the same time being a wholly new experience. That probably has something to do with the groan Rhett makes, low and quick, like it only traveled a short distance from the back of his throat. Rhett makes another sound, and then another a few seconds after, and it's only when Rhett jerks back that Link realizes it wasn't Rhett at all, it was his phone buzzing from where it'd been dropped on the bed between them.

There's a solid 5-second stare off while the phone continues vibrating nearby, where it's clear as day Rhett's brain is trying to rationalize the situation as Link's does the same. Ultimately Rhett schools the shock from his face, cools his composure, and bolts. He snatches the phone as he gets to his feet; Link hears him murmur, " _Hey, baby_ ," into it on his way to the bathroom, and feels something change within.

***

For most of the day, Link gives Rhett a wide berth. That's a nice way of saying he avoids him like the plague.

Great as that tactic is, it doesn't really work. Rhett sees right through it, first of all. Without calling Link out on it, he flat out refuses to acknowledge it for what it is and treats Link, instead, like that morning's incident never happened. Link, on the other hand, speaks only when spoken to and his answers rarely go beyond monosyllabic. A normal person might be deterred by this, but Rhett's bullheaded as they come and happy to play ignorant.

Plus, for the tour, they have to scout out the venue ahead of time, they have to plan their instagram videos, they have to be Rhett & Link™. There ain't a lot of room for silent treatments.  


For the past twenty minutes, Link's been sending texts to his kids, staving off the guilt by following Rhett's example of 'if we don't talk about it, it didn't happen.' He knows he's gonna hafta have a conversation with his wife, but that can't be a thought in his head right now.

Rhett collapses onto the backstage couch right beside him, dropping down so heavy, everything from their shoulders to their knees smashes together like they've been lined with magnets. With a glare that makes his annoyance at being jostled known, Link pulls away. He doesn't move over, because he was here first. But he does add some distance between their torsos and direct some unkind thoughts at Rhett.

"What d'ya wanna do for food?" Rhett asks him after a while.

"Already ate."

Rhett takes a couple of seconds to scroll through his memory of the day. "That granola bar? From three hours ago? The one you threw away because it had sunflower seeds in it? That's not lunch, man. That's barely even a snack."

"You're the expert on meals now?"

"I mean, yeah, compared to you. What about pizza?"

"We had pizza yesterday."

"Want to go out, see what we can find?"

From the corner of his eye, Link sees Rhett opening up the internet app on his phone. It's just a peripheral glance, but he catches it anyway -- Rhett never closed the tab from his last search, which means all them photoshopped pictures of them kissing are still right there.

"Rhett, dammit," he complains, pushing to the edge of the couch. He holds a hand out to block the view and faces the other way, squeezing his eyes shut until he can be convinced the images are gone.

"I didn't do that on purpose," Rhett informs him. He sounds honest enough. There's nothing he would get out of it, anyway, so Link believes him, but he's still mad he had to relive it all over again.

"Just close the freaking page. Better yet, delete the search from your history, 'cause if I ever hafta see it again, I'mma--"

"You realize you're being like _ninety percent_ more dramatic than you need to be, right? I've closed it. See?"

Link cracks open his eyes as Rhett's phone gets shoved into his field of view. It's just the blank home page. He feels soothed and placated, but he also feels newly riled up in ways the abrupt stop to their kiss didn't allow for before. It's pissing him off that Rhett's continuing to act like what transpired between them wasn't a big deal, when it was. It was a betrayal to two marriages, first of all. That has to be acknowledged.

"What the heck were you thinking?" Link accuses hotly, staring him down.

Rhett throws his head back against the cushions, glancing up at the ceiling for a brief moment. He lets out a weary sigh before submitting to the eye contact Link's forcing. "I already told you it was an accident. You know the tabs stay open if you don't close 'em, and, well--" He makes a clicking noise. "We kinda got a little busy--"

"Seriously? I'm not talking about right now, I'm talkin' about _earlier_ ," he says, using a hushed voice. They've been left alone the better part of an hour, but there are still random venue employees and members of their own crew milling around. "At the hotel."

"Really, you wanna hash it out now? Here?"

"Where else? You know, I'm really freakin' pissed at you. All I'm gonna be thinking about when we get on stage is how _stupid_ we were--"

"Hey hey hey, now. Hold up."

"You disagree?"

"We kissed, man, we didn't--"

Link hisses at Rhett to shut him up, fitting his palm over the top of his mouth to physically quiet him as well.

Rhett allows it for a short three seconds before forcefully flinging Link's hand off of him. He snaps out of his sprawl, to his feet, using the advantage of his height to demand, "You need to come with me. Now," in a voice that lets Link know it isn't a suggestion, it's a command.

Off the room they're in, there's a door that leads to a large storage area they only briefly explored. Rhett pulls it open and doesn't wait for Link to follow, which means it closes before Link's made up his mind to obey. When Link enters, looking for Rhett in the dark, he nearly yelps out loud when Rhett finds him first, grabbing him and pushing him into a nearby wall. It feels like the start of a fight, which means Link's first reaction, outside of fear, is anger. It overcomes him completely, boiling over in seconds.

There's a scuffle that ends with Link pinned against the wall.

"Quit tryin' to fight me," Rhett whispers at him hotly, struggling to keep hold of Link's shoulders that are bucking like he's some wild bronco. Link's adrenaline is spiking high, which only means he's tiring himself out, and fast. "Link, hey." A soft touch against Link's cheek stills him in an instant. "I'm not gonna hit you," Rhett tells him, still so quietly.

Link's gotta swallow to find his voice. Even then, when he says, "Okay," it's still got some hoarseness to it. Distractedly, he whispers, "Why's it so dark in here?"

Rhett laughs at him lowly, but it's not mean.

"Couldn't find the switch."

Makes sense. By now, there are only wisps of his anger left. He's still mad for the same reason he was five minutes ago, but something about having a cold basement wall pressed up against his back while Rhett towers warm and tall and solid in front of him, it does something to his senses. Lulls them.

"Link..." Rhett starts, sounding apologetic. The way he trails off, Link can't tell if he's searching for words, or bracing to say those words.

It makes no sense, but all of a sudden, Link knows he doesn't want to hear them. This is going to be the latest moment to define their friendship and it can only go one of two ways. Forward or stalemate.

Feeling reckless, Link grabs Rhett by the ass and _tugs_ , with intent. Rhett makes a startled noise as he stumbles forward, and then he makes another startled sound when their fronts collide. Rhett's hands go to the wall behind Link to catch himself.

Link's still got two handfuls of ass -- he gives each a squeeze. The shock of breath Rhett lets out hits Link high up on the side of his neck. Right away, there goes the goosebumps.

Whatever he's starting here, it feels incredibly surreal, and easily breakable, like a single word could end it. So he doesn't say anything as he pulls Rhett close again, this time rolling his own hips; on the slide back down to the heels of his feet, there's a drag across his crotch that he feels in every inch of his body, awakening him once more to the reality of what's happening.

There's no warning for Rhett's mouth on Link's neck. It's just suddenly _there_ , lightly sucking, right under his ear, warm and wet and eager. Link floats to the tips of his toes, sliding his hands all the way up Rhett's body until he's got a new hold on the back of his head. Rhett's beard tickles in a way he's not used to. It makes him squirm and threatens a nervous laugh out of him, which lightens his mood considerably, almost making him feel buoyant with giddiness. 

Against his stomach, he can feel the prominent poke of Rhett's waistband, and something a little farther south that sends his pulse skittering like a bumped needle on an old record player. It's not like he's never felt another guy's junk up close against him before; he grew up in the era of basketball shorts as casual wear, and those things leave nothing to the imagination, especially during their UFC phase. A lot of their wrestling moves easily turned erotic. They were quickly fallen out of, of course, and teenage Link always found himself willing away his boners instead of encouraging them, but this Link, adult Link, who's shoved up against a wall in a pitch black room with his oldest friend sucking the side of his throat hard enough to leave a mark, is thrilling in the perverseness of getting hard.

Something crazy sweeps through him. It feels a lot like a midlife crisis but it doesn't feel _wrong_ , and it sends him falling to his knees. It's not a smooth transition. His hands get tangled halfway down and Rhett gets left hanging with his mouth open, almost faceplanting with the wall -- never mind the reminder that he ain't as young as he thinks he is when his knees hit concrete and he groans loudly in a non-sexy way -- but none of that matters when Link looks up, meeting Rhett's eyes he can just barely see, and slides down Rhett's zipper.

It's an obscenely loud sound in the dead silence of the room. It feels like it's being blasted over a loudspeaker. He's half expecting someone to come busting through to investigate. Nothing happens, though, except Rhett rolls his hips forward, pushing his crotch into Link's arm to remind everyone this is, at the very least, a 2-step process. That's a far cry from the protests he was half-expecting. Normally, Link gets anywhere within a 5-foot radius of Rhett's midsection, and Rhett reacts like Link's coming at him with weapons.

Link straightens up, making himself taller on his knees. There's not a lot of room with the wall so close behind him, and Rhett even closer. He's bumping into Rhett with each tug and yank required until the front of Rhett's jeans are wide open, exposing his boxer-briefs and the outline of his dick that's just starting to get hard.

Again, the moment feels surreal. He's overly aware of his face's vicinity to Rhett's junk. There's this tiny voice inside his head compelling him to stop and analyze things more -- does he really want to be this person, on his knees in front of someone he's definitely not married to, in a seedy basement, dead set on performing an oral activity -- except it's Rhett, the only other person on the face of the planet who feels like his second half. He loves Christy, genuinely, as a husband should, but he can't say he doesn't love Rhett as well, and therein lies his greatest internal conflict.

"I realize you're panicking," Rhett tells him; his voice is strained. "I also realize your mouth is inches from lil' Rhett, and he's 'bout to get a whole lot bigger if you keep it there, brother."

It's crazy, but that's all the push Link needs. It's not a conversation about consent, but it's close enough.

Slowly, Link leans into the open vee of Rhett's jeans. He ignores Rhett's shudder. He ignores, too, Rhett's hands coming down and resting lightly atop his shoulders. He's never done this before but how hard can it be? Pun intended.

Rhett, though, ain't all the way there yet. He's still pretty soft but when Link presses his nose to Rhett's underwear, out of curiosity more than raging desire, he feels a twitch. 

Rhett's forehead thunks against the wall. Link peeks up for reassurance and finds Rhett staring down at him, mouth agape like he's struggling to keep his breathing calm.

It's a weird angle to maintain eye contact, but Link tries to as he mouths at what turns out to be a rather substantial part of Rhett's dick. Rhett doesn't bother to silence his groan, following it up with a " _Link,_ " that sounds like a curse word. Rhett's fingers dig into his shoulders.

This technique lasts all of four minutes. They're very heated minutes -- Rhett's hummed his approval more than once -- but all the same, four minutes is not enough time to warrant an interruption, which is what happens.

When Link pulls back, Rhett says, "It's not okay?" with his worry evident. There's some self-consciousness, too.

"Knee cramp," Link corrects with a frown, leaning down to rub out a knot he didn't know a knee could get.

Relieved, Rhett closes his eyes and laughs.

"Dang. I think I landed on a pebble."

"You can stop, you know. You don't have to..."

Link quits massaging his knee to pull back and stare Rhett down. From the floor. "Have to what?"

Rhett licks his lips. His tongue is the faintest pink blur in the dark. "Suck me off."

Up go Link's eyebrows. "That a command?" He adds, "Sir?"

Link's playing a game here and Rhett's catching on. They hold eye contact to confirm, and then Rhett grabs his dick through his underwear and guides his hips toward Link. "I don't remember saying you could stop."

"I don't recall you saying I could 'start' either," Link sasses under his breath.

The hand Rhett still had on Link's shoulder fits itself, instead, at the hair on top of Link's head. Those five fingers tighten and tug, tilting Link's head back. The knuckles of Rhett's other hand drag across Link's mouth. "Suck."

Link does, pressing his mouth just below Rhett's fingers, right where the base of his dick is, with the zipper of his jeans so close he's got a phantom taste of metal to ignore. Against his forehead he can feel Rhett squeezing himself. Breathing hard out of his nose, Link mouths higher and higher until Rhett's hand is pushed out of the way, until he reaches the elastic waistband of Rhett's underwear. Without stopping to consider the uncharted territory, in one fell swoop, he yanks at Rhett's underwear until Rhett's dick springs free.

It probably happens pretty perfunctory, but Link's never had a bare dick come so close to his own face before, so his first instinct is to jolt back like the thing's gone rogue.

It hasn't, of course, because it's attached to someone else's body, but the sentience of it shocks a laugh out of him.

"Hey, now," Rhett murmurs, "A man could be offended by that."

"It scared me a little. Like it _unleashed_ itself."

"Mmm. 'Cause it's so big."

Link snorts. "You got a history of thinking that."

"I'm not wrong."

"No, you are _not_ ," Link agrees, heavy on the wryness, since Rhett's penis is hard enough it's jutting out, right at eye level. It might just be his perspective, but the thing looks _huge_. "Just to warn you, I'm bigger. You know, for later." He waggles his eyebrows in an attempt at mock-seductive; of course, it makes his glasses slip down his nose.

Rhett copies Link's snort. Then he snorts again when he realizes Link isn't joking. "Awfully presumptuous, Neal. And kinda mean, man."

"You've forgotten our college measuring contest?"

" _No_ ," Rhett insists, as riled up about it now as he was back then, when one drunken innuendo sparked one drunken, actual dick measuring contest. They wound up having to create two categories for two winners, a breadth and a length, since Link's was longer by a couple inches, but Rhett had the bragging rights of 'girth' over him. It's been nearly twenty years since, but he's willing to bet the titles haven't shifted.

With a lot of impatience, Rhett yanks on Link until he catches on and stands up himself, crying out in pain when his back slides against the wall. "Gentle, _gentle_ ," he tells Rhett, even though it was his own shaky two feet that did it.

Once they're toe to toe again, at their normal height, Link bounces his eyes at Rhett to say: _you brought me up here, big guy, now what?_

Rhett blows out an exasperated breath and jerks open the button of Link's jeans. It's such a firm, swift pull, it makes him trip into Rhett with a, "Geez," out of his mouth even as his hands are coming up to Rhett's chest to prevent a hard collision. Rhett pays the invasion no mind, still wrenching down Link's zipper like he's got a single-minded point to prove. Which he does, but dang.

"Alright, alright," Link tells him, sounding only slightly harassed. He bullies Rhett's hand out of the way with his own and unzips himself, with another look at Rhett over the top of his eyes to let him know he got the job done himself, and faster.

Rhett ignores it. He nods his head, tells Link, "Open it up."

"Gimme a minute. I'm tryin' to build the _tension_."

"You realize it's just you'n me, right? Just open your pants, man. Let it out."

Link lays a patronizing hand on Rhett's shoulder, even as his other hand does what it'd been told. "Now, Rhett. I don't want you to be sad when I prove you wrong--"

Rhett rolls his shoulder until Link's hand slips off of it. "Line it up," he says, holding his own dick straight out in front of him. The tip pokes Link in the stomach. To date, this may be the strangest moment of their lives, right up there with the one time on GMM that guy came on and petted Rhett's beard and Link had to watch.

Link's not as hard as Rhett still is, first of all. Let that be known. It certainly counts for something, because even as long as he is when he lines himself up right next to Rhett's, he knows he's got at least two more inches in him, at his peak. As it is, Rhett appears to just _barely_ be bigger. He accepts this graciously.

He does not.

"HA, suckah," Rhett crows, victory-dancing with a hip roll.

Link retaliates by smearing his dick across the front of Rhett's beloved cactus sweater.

Right away, Rhett shouts his complaints. "Hey! What is wrong with you?" He's scowling at what he imagines is a telltale wet mark, but in the dark, there's nothing to even see. Besides, Link ain't even leaking precome, so it was a dry rub anyway, which means he's cleared of feeling bad about it.

Riding the teasing feeling that's come over him, Link inches forward, which sends his face straight under Rhett's beard. He breathes in hard, making Rhett angle his head away, like it's an unpleasant sensation to be scented so thoroughly, but Link latches onto the first patch of bare skin his mouth finds and mimics Rhett's neck-sucking from before. He wraps his hand around both their dicks, intending to keep them from chafing against each other and their clothing, but as soon as he does it, he is enveloped in nerve-tingling pleasure. He oughta be crowned with a new title: Master of Sex. That's a TV show. You know what, the name'll come to him later, when he's not blissing out.

Sharing a flesh tunnel with Rhett is nice. When it starts moving, it gets so much better, yet so much worse. His palm's too dry, is the problem; the friction doesn't hurt, but it warms the skin fast, and that starts to burn. That's when Link remembers: Rhett's got the sweatiest hands of anybody he's ever met.

He lets go and tells Rhett, "You do it."

Rhett's gotta crane his neck to look down the side of Link's head, to see their dicks. "You're sure?"

Maybe it's because they've already crossed several lines already, but he feels sure, immediately, that they will survive this. They're going to have long, painful, life-changing talks with their wives, but those are going to be 'how do we make this work?' conversations, not 'where do I sign the divorce papers?'

Link lifts up on his toes, high enough he almost makes it to eye level. "Jerk me, daddy," he drawls in a low whisper, hitting that Southern twang hard. It's the worst possible thing he could've said, and he knows it the instant it's left his mouth, but he's gonna own the grossness of it.

Rhett says, "Oh, gosh," and snickers his _ho-ho-ho-ho-ho_ laugh to let Link know 'daddy' is a no-go; Link shuts him up with a kiss, since he's already right there. Rhett's not expecting it, so it takes a second for him to adjust into it, and then it's just an enthused converging of the lips.

Link was right, though. Rhett's hand is freaking _damp_ when it wraps around them. He uses his right hand, so Link gets the finger part of his grip rather than palm, but even his fingertips are emitting sweat in a way that seems unnatural. Right now, it's hard to be concerned since Rhett starts sliding his hand up and down and there's no catch, it's only slick.

It doesn't take long for Rhett to settle on a rhythm. There's an unspoken acknowledgment that this is going to end very fast. That's a comment on their age and stamina, but it's also admitting how turned on they are, just by this. Just by a clammy fist, close proximity, and the mutual heedless feeling that led to a hand job in a storage room in the first place.

"Not on our clothes," he says when he knows he's getting close. His brain travels to a near future where the internet's freaking out over the suspicious identical stains they go on stage with. Hard pass.

Rhett doesn't stop, but he does slow his pace. With his free hand, he lifts up the bottom of Link's shirt until his belly button is exposed. The pause that comes after is slightly droll, except it ain't a bad suggestion. Link lifts the bottom of Rhett's sweater too.

"Aim _for_ the skin," Rhett instructs in a tone that implies he already doubts Link's ability to comply.

That's fair. Link huffs out a laugh and delights in the accidental pun: "Foreskin."

Rhett's silence is full of judgment. It doesn't last long, though. He starts jerking them off in earnest again. It's almost painful, since a lot of Rhett's sweat has already been absorbed. That's an incentive to hurry up.

Link tips his hips up, until he's cleared the top of Rhett's jeans and underwear and is aimed to release against Rhett's stomach. Of course, it's an unpredictable event -- those spurts cannot be controlled and will go anywhere they please -- but he feels confident in his canvas.

Rhett's got an easier target, since Link's shorter. He's aiming, too. "You close?" he asks, his voice tight.

"Mmmm," Link answers. He starts shallowly thrusting to help bring him closer to the edge.

After that, it's only a matter of minutes before Rhett's dick is bumping into his stomach, smudging wetness against his happy trail. The concern does cross his mind that they're going to need like, a hand towel, some wet wipes -- _something_ to clean themselves up -- then Rhett stills and comes, a big rope of it that hits the soft part of Link's stomach. His first instinct is to suck in, even as he feels the patter of smaller drops.

He hears Rhett's soft groans of pleasure, and then a sigh, and that's when Link comes too. The climax is pretty similar. He shudders against Rhett and drops his hold on Rhett's sweater, grabbing instead the wrist of Rhett's hand that's still holding them both.

Rhett complains, "My _shirt_ ," but he seems like he already accepted this was always going to be his fate.

"I'll wash it," Link promises breathlessly.

They both know he won't.

Rhett _mm-hmms_ under his breath and moves to back away. Link's in cuddle mode, though. His limbs are like jelly, his heart is beating fast, and he wants to spend just a little bit longer inside this vibe they created. He wraps his other arm around Rhett's torso and squeezes, pressing his face against Rhett's chest.

Rhett doesn't embrace him back, but he does allow it. Even though he makes a noise and says, "Okay. It got weird."

He's holding both of their dicks still, so, no offense taken. That is weird.

Finally Link lets go of Rhett's wrist, and his torso, and Rhett accepts this as permission given to let go too. Once Link's bare, softening penis hits the open air, he doesn't know how to feel. Awkward, obviously. Overly aware of the mess on his stomach, which is rapidly drying and starting to itch. He gets himself back in his pants with the zipper up, and that brings back some normality. He hears Rhett shuffling in the dark to do the same.

"So," Link says, after.

There's potential for the moment to come full circle. For it to end the way it started, with denial, defensiveness, and a silent treatment.

Then Rhett jokes, "Come clean me up, daddy," and Link's heart lurches once more, this time out of the love he feels for the tall doofus he gets to call his best friend.

(They do clean each other up, though, with their mouths.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please imagine happy endings for all! A beautiful polyamory conclusion!


End file.
